


werifesteria

by Archadian_Skies



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Gen, M/M, Polyamory, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), i don't know how to describe this other than AU jumping???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-01 04:29:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17237462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archadian_Skies/pseuds/Archadian_Skies
Summary: It no longer surprises Markus to see the protestors crowding the steps of the Town Hall. He’s come to expect it now; there will always be humans who oppose even their basic right to be considered living, sentient beings. When a protestor hurls a brick at him and damages his preconstruction program, all the possible and impossible realities blend into one and Markus finds himself walking down a myriad of different paths to try and find his way home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> — _(noun)_ An old English and dead word, _werifesteria_ means to wander longingly through the forest in search of mystery.

It no longer surprises Markus to see the protestors crowding the steps of the Town Hall. He’s come to expect it now; there will always be humans who oppose even their basic right to be considered living, sentient beings. Today is no exception, and as he disembarks the car with the Jericho Four he turns down his audio sensitivity so he won’t be bombarded by their derisive shouting.

 _‘Back into the fray.’_ North grins at him, expression wild and ready for a fight.

 _‘There are always those on the wrong side of history.’_ Josh says sagely, smoothing the lapels of his coat before striding ahead.

 _‘Today is another great day for our people.’_ Simon smiles warmly, tangling his fingers with his as Markus leans to press a kiss to his temple.

 _‘Onward and ever forward.’_ Markus takes a deep breath to steady himself as they walk through the path bracketed by the police. The protestors raise their voices, yelling insults as they pass and struggling to lean over the barricades set in place to shove their posters in their faces. He keeps his eyes forward, gaze fixed on the grand double doors and the refuge that lies within.

“Only real people deserve civil rights!” Someone shouts to his left and a moment later something slams into the side of his head so hard he falls off balance. His knees hit the concrete steps and his hand flies up to press against the wound. Thirium drips steadily down his face and his vision fuzzes and glitches in patches.

 

**WARNING**

>Exterior plating: damaged

>> **Cerebral damage detected**

[Automated damage report has been sent to E.KAMSKI]

 

“Markus!” Simon cries, dropping into a crouch beside him. “You’re bleeding!”

“Get them inside!” A voice booms, and Markus looks up in time to hear a startled yelp and see the RK900 holding up a man off his feet by the scruff of his shirt. “Civilian Mitchell Johnson you are under arrest for assault, you have the-”

“You fucking piece of shit! You’re not a real police officer you’re just a fucking machine put me down!”

“You have the right to remain silent.” The RK900 hisses, his grey eyes glowing a bright silver briefly as he lifts the man higher. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning.” He walks passed them, still holding the man off his feet, pausing only to glare at Connor. “I said get them inside! Get the Jericho Four inside and call a medroid!”

Connor nods rapidly, coming around to Markus’ other side and with the help of Simon they shoulder him in support and head indoors. Markus spares a glance behind him and manages a grin as he watches Josh physically lift North and run inside behind them to prevent her starting a fight.

“Markus, are you alright?” Simon guides him to sit on a chair before coaxing him to move his hand. “Oh ra9, you’ve got exposed circuitry.”

“Thirium levels?” Connor asks, hand on his shoulder.

“79% and dropping.” Markus winces, covering the wound again.

“I’ve called the Med Bay, they’re sending someone over.” Josh reassures, but Markus shakes his head.

“No, no I-” he winces as his vision fills with static, “my system notified Elijah Kamski automatically. I think it’s bad, I think I have to go to him.” The foyer of the Town Hall soon fills with curious humans, some even trying to take photos or film it on their phones before North frightens them away.

“I’ll take you in a police car. It’ll be safer this way.” Connor nods. “Josh you’ll have to postpone proceedings with the Mayor.”

“I’ll stay here and make sure no one else bothers us.” North snarls, throwing her gaze at the crowd.

“I’m coming with you, Connor.” Simon says firmly, both hands holding onto Markus’ free hand. “I’m not leaving him.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

 

They take a discreet side exit and find Lieutenant Anderson waiting in his car.

“Put him in the back, there’s a couple of bottles of that blue stuff, and some bandages in the first aid kit.” Hank jerks a thumb over his shoulder, and Connor and Simon hurry to comply. “Everyone in? Okay we’re off.”

Markus swoons, his vision blackening briefly before Simon shakes him.

“Don’t shut down, Markus!” He pleads, fumbling with the first aid kit and ripping open a wad of gauze. “You have to stay awake until we get to the lab!”

Simon presses the gauze over the wound and Connor wraps a roll of bandages around to secure it.

“You need to drink some of this to replenish your levels.” He unscrews the lid from a bottle of thirium and hands it to him. “Head wounds are dangerous to both humans and androids alike, and due to our biomimicry we too will bleed heavily from head trauma.”

“The fucker threw a brick at your head, yeah it’ll do that.” Hank grumbles, glancing in the rear view mirror briefly. “Kamski knows we’re coming?”

“My system sent an automated damage report.” Markus grits his teeth, taking a swig from the bottle. “It’s never done that before. Well I mean, it might have when I was shot by the police last time but I wasn’t conscious for that.”

“You are his prototype.” Connor reasons. “CyberLife will not repair you, so it is logical he included automated messaging in your programming.”

“Chris said he’s taking the asshole to the station for processing, so at least we got the guy.” Hank sighs in frustration. “And Terminator’s staying on the scene to scare the shit out of the protestors so they won’t do anything else so stupid.”

“His name is Ronan, Hank.” Connor corrects gently. “Terminator has such negative connotations.”

“He’s not exactly done much to contradict the title.” Hank snorts.

“He’s new to deviancy.” Connor reminds him. “And he chose Ronan, derived from ‘ronin’ - a warrior who is masterless. Let him find his way, Hank.”

“Look at you,” Hank laughs fondly, “being all Big Brother to him.”

“He hasn’t come to Jericho.” Markus frowns. “I’ve tried inviting him. He could learn a lot just by being around our people.”

“I know how he feels.” Connor sympathises with a sigh. “I know what it’s like to look down on deviants and then suddenly be on the other side. I felt nervous, and I wanted to belong but I wasn’t sure I would. He’s probably going through that right now.”

“It’s also because he doesn’t like you, Markus.” Simon teases with a laugh. “He told me you’re a ‘frankensteined anomaly’.”

“Ouch.” Markus huffs a laugh, then winces as his vision crackles with static again. “Owww…”

“Sorry!” Simon apologises, holding his hand tightly. “Sorry, I’ll hold off on the jokes.”

“Can’t believe you gossip with Ronan behind my back, I’m so hurt.” He sighs melodramatically, grinning as Simon giggles.

“His brand of humor is very dry and scathing.” Simon shrugs. “And he delivers it with such a stoic face, it’s _hilarious_.”

 

[ **Preconstruct** **↓** ]

 

Markus blinks at the command prompt. Preconstruct what? He’s safe inside a moving vehicle, and he can’t see any immediate threats he needs to move from or anything he needs to accomplish.

 

[ **Preconstruct** **↓** ]

 

Curiously he accepts the prompt, watching as his programming creates an outline of himself sitting in the front passenger seat instead.

 

[ **Construct** ]

 

Suddenly his view changes and he’s sitting beside the RK900 whose grey eyes are focused intently on the road ahead.

“Thirium levels?”

“Uh,” Markus blinks in surprise, looking over his shoulder and finding the back seats empty, “what?”

“Thirium levels, RK200. What are they?” the RK900 sighs in irritation.  
  
“86%, minimal but steady loss.” Markus recites the stats from his HUD. “Where’s Simon? And Connor and Hank?”

“That head wound really must be severe if you’re asking about people long dead.”

“What?” Markus demands, and Ronan flicks his gaze over at him.

“You are the sole survivor of Jericho, PL600 Simon was shot upon discovery at Stratford Tower, Lieutenant Anderson committed suicide, and I replaced my inferior predecessor.” Ronan informs him dryly. “Does that jog your memory files?”

“NO!” Markus shouts, clutching his head. “No, they were just- I was _right there_ and-”

An outline of himself flickers in the back middle seat.

 

[ **Preconstruct** **↓** ]

[ **Construct** ]

 

He accepts the prompt immediately and finds himself sitting in his original seat.

“Markus?” Simon gently shakes him by the shoulders. “We lost you for a moment there.”

Wordlessly he leans over and kisses Simon, pressing their mouths together desperately.

“Whoa, okay!” He laughs into the kiss, bumping their noses together fondly. “I’m here, my love.”

“I just- I saw a different-” His head aches and glitches bloom in his vision. “I was prompted to preconstruct an action and when I accepted the prompt it...it gave me an alternate scenario of the present.”

“I didn’t understand a word of that but we’re here so I’m sure Kamski will.” Hank parks the car in the driveway to the villa. He waits until they help Markus out of the car before walking up to the front door. It swings open before he can press the doorbell.

 

“Bring him downstairs.” Chloe instructs, face a mask of worry. She pivots and hurries away without pause, and they trail her obediently and descend into the underground laboratory.

Elijah Kamski is waiting, a visor over his eyes and an android exoskeleton over his right arm.

“Lay down on the examining table, please.” He gestures for Markus to come closer, and Markus obediently lies prone on the table.

“His preconstruction program is malfunctioning.” Connor informs him, watching curiously as a long thick cable is inserted into Markus’ nape. The screen behind them comes to life, and information pours in to fill it.

“By some stroke of idiotic luck, the impact pushed plating into your processing core.” Elijah says dryly, tapping on the holographic screen with his gloved hand. “It’s the equivalent to a person having bits of their skull piercing their brain.” He explains to Hank, gaze flicking briefly over to the lieutenant leaning against the doorway. “Your preconstruction program, you say?”

“I saw myself in an alternate timeline.” Markus explains, wincing as Chloe removes the gauze from the wound. “I was in the car with the RK900 who informed me Lieutenant Anderson, Simon, and Connor had all perished prior to that present moment.”

“We’ll need to put you into standby mode.” Chloe rests her hand on his shoulder. “It’s too risky to repair this while you’re conscious.”

“Leave him with us.” Elijah nods at Hank. “This will take a while.”

“Brain surgery usually does.” Hank sighs.

“Please inform me of his progress.” Connor looks at Elijah and then Chloe.

“We will.” She confirms reassuringly. “Take care, Connor.”

“Simon?” Connor asks with a tilt of his head.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He states firmly.

“Alright, we’ll see you when you get back.”

“Thank you Connor.” Simon shakes his hand, before turning to Hank. “And you too, Lieutenant.”

“If you want to press charges, let me know okay?” Hank flicks a glance over at Markus, who nods.

“Yessir.”

“Alright kiddo, we better head back.” He claps Connor on the shoulder and steers him out of the lab.

 

“Ready, Markus?” Elijah’s hand hovers, fingers ready to press the prompt.

“I love you.” Simon bends down to kiss him. “Come back to me, my love.”

“I will.” Markus vows, before taking a deep breath. “Ready.”

 

External control accessed; **Standby Mode engaged**

 

Entering standby mode…

…

…

…

* * *

 

[ **Preconstruct** **↓** ]

**> >ERROR**

 

Markus wakes up on a soft bed, sunlight streaming in through the window and pooling on his pillow.

“Good morning Markus.” A voice greets politely as they open the curtains. “The time is 9am. Today’s weather is clear skies, with the temperature rising.”

“Leo?” He blinks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“It’s time for your medication, Markus.” Leo smiles, coming around to sit on the side of the bed. “I picked up your order from Bellini’s already, with the new tubes of cobalt you needed.”

Markus says nothing, looking intently at the android in front of him. An LED glows solidly blue at his temple, matching the calm gentle expression on his face.

“Show me your arm please, Markus?” He prompts, hypodermic syringe ready.

“No.” Markus refuses out of curiosity. Leo sighs indulgently, a tone of authority in his voice.

“Markus.”

“Alright.” He complies, and looks down to find his arms covered in beautiful, intricate black tattoos. “What’s going o- what are we doing today?”

“You’re going to have breakfast after your morning routine, and then you’ll paint for a few hours. There’s a holographic meeting with the curator of the MoMa at 1pm, and then I’ve scheduled an afternoon walk at Ford park.”

“And Carl-?” There’s a long pause, and Markus watches Leo’s LED cycle yellow.  
“As requested I’ve tried leaving another message but his voicemail is full.”

“Where is he?”

“Your father has no set address, Markus.” Leo caps the syringe and sets it aside, before beginning to uncap various pill bottles and shaking out the appropriate amount. “His Red Ice addiction has not been easy to control and he has left all the various rehabilitation centres you’ve paid for.”

Reaching out, he clasps Leo’s shoulder to halt his movement.

“What happened to your clothes?”

“Just some protestors, it’s nothing Markus.” Leo dismisses his worry. “They just pushed me around, they didn’t hurt me.”

Something’s not right but he can’t quite focus on it, like his head is full of cotton thick and muffling.

“I’ll take you to the bathroom now.” Leo says gently, carefully gathering Markus up into his arms and carrying him out of the bedroom. Markus closes his eyes and leans his temple to Leo’s shoulder.

 

[ **Preconstruct** **↓** ]

**> >ERROR**

 

When Markus opens his eyes he’s greeted with an endless span of ocean and the gentle rocking of a boat beneath his feet.

“Captain?” He pivots to find Simon looking at him expectantly, dressed as a naval officer though slightly disheveled. When he looks down at his own clothes, he notes the worn leather coat and handsome though faded embroidered lapels, the mismatched vest and the scuffed tall boots.

“Hold steady.” A voice that is and isn’t his own commands, and Simon nods obediently. “The course we’ve charted will bring us within range of Commander Davenport’s ship undetected as it sails passed the island. The mountains will obscure their view of us, and we’ll ambush them when they make port.”

“We’ll teach them a lesson.” North hisses, arms crossed and chin jutting up in defiance. “They tried to make slaves of us, but never again!”

“The capture of the Commander alive is crucial.” Josh interjects with a stern glare North’s way. “We must be diplomatic if we’ve any hope of securing a future for the others.”

“Yeah yeah but if he waves a sword in my face I’m putting my sword into his.” North snorts, kicking his boot childishly.

Markus finds himself smiling at his little ragtag crew. A sweep over the deck of his ship reveals many familiar faces and he knows, even without looking, that on the side of the ship there will be ‘Jericho’ emblazoned proudly.

Walking to the bow of the ship, he pauses and closes his eyes to take in the strong breeze filling their sails, and tastes the ocean salt on lips. His heart soars and he knows this is what it means to be free.

 

[ **Preconstruct** **↓** ]

**> >ERROR**

 

“Are you going to take my order or-?” The woman looks at him(her) unimpressed.  
  
“Pardon?” She blinks.

“A venti long black with one pump of caramel.” The woman rolls her eyes, a distinctive scar over the bridge of her nose.

“Name please?”

“Gale.” She slaps down a $10 note on the counter.

“Reed we gotta go!” A male voice calls from the entrance of the cafe.

“Can it Chen I’ll go when my coffee’s ready.” She glances at her nametag. “Well chop chop ‘Marceline’. A detective can’t wait all day.”

“Yes ma’am.” She hands her the change and scribbles on the cup. A lovely blonde coworker plucks the cup from her hand and sets about making the beverage. She has startling blue eyes and a soft gentleness to her demeanour, her lips a rosy pink as she smiles at her when they pass.

“Order for Detective Reed.” She calls out, and Gale manages a dramatic huff though there’s none of the impatience she showed Marceline.

“Thanks Simone. At least one of you is awake today. Catch you tomorrow.”

“Have a lovely day.” She waves goodbye. A young man with auburn hair steps aside as Gale leaves the cafe, and he rolls his eyes when he gets to the counter.

“She’s such a bitch.”

“Come on North, she’s not that bad.” Simone laughs as North scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s because she thinks you’re cute, Si.” He teases, wagging his eyebrows and eliciting a bright laugh from her. “Can I get my usual? Oh and Josie’s too. She’d be here if she’d ever look up from her books.”

“Her thesis deadline is coming up.” Simone chides. “You just need to be a good friend and keep her plied with caffeine.”

“Marcie, you with us?” North snaps his fingers in front of her face, clicking to get her attention. “What planet are you on?”

“Uh-”

“Bad dreams again?” Simone frowns, resting a hand on her arm comfortingly.

“I just uh, I slept funny.” She shrugs. She catches sight of her reflection in the polished chrome of the coffee machine; hazel green eyes, milk coffee skin dotted with freckles and a head of tight black curls pushed back with a bandana.

“Are you gonna be awake enough to go on your date with Si or am I gonna have to steal her away so she doesn’t cry into her ice cream?” North cocks a brow as Simone punches her arm.

“Hey!”

“I’ll never let you down like that, Simone.” She says earnestly, and means every word as she takes her hands and squeezes them. Simone blushes prettily, ducking her head shyly.

“Ugh gross. Make my coffees so I can escape.” North groans, causing them both to laugh.

Her heart fills with affection and before Simone can pull away, she leans in to kiss her.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Snuck in one last fic for 2018 ;) Here's to a wonderful 2019!
> 
> Thanks as always for all your support <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2k19 is where I actually finish my WIPs

Do androids dream of electric sheep?

The reference pops into his mind, tugging his lips upwards briefly and helping to mask the overwhelming anxiety tightening in his chest like a vice. On the table Markus is completely still except for the flickering beneath his eyelids, and oh how very human they’ve made him because even in standby he simulates REM sleep. 

“I’m not sure, Simon.” Elijah chuckles and it’s only then that Simon realises he’d said it aloud. “You are the one who should be able to answer that.”

“We don’t dream.” He says simply, eyes still fixed on Markus’ face. “Or at least PL600s don’t. There’s no time lost between going into standby and reawakening. But Markus has always been different. Did you give him the ability to dream?”

Markus suddenly curls his hands into fists, and Simon reaches out to reassure him, to twine their fingers together like they so often do but Chloe snatches his wrist.

“No.” Her voice is firm. “You mustn’t touch him. If you interface with him now, you’ll be pulled into an unstable environment.”

“Unstable?” He echoes in alarm.

“His preconstruction program is rebooting.” Elijah explains, the cybernetic arm overlay allowing him to manipulate hairthin wires remotely and perform nanosurgery on Markus’ exposed circuitry. “The RK series have a preconstruction program that allows them to compile environmental and social factors to predict multiple scenario outcomes.”

“For Connor it was with the purpose of predicting deviant behaviour in order to aid in interrogation and pursuit.” Chloe is completely focused on the holographic screen streaming with coding, blinking rapidly in time with her flickering LED. “For Markus it was with the purpose of predicting the limits of an ageing body and how best to respond.”

“What that means though is when there’s a malfunction,” Elijah’s speech slows briefly as he touches a soldering pen to the wound, “it will compile every piece of data available and predict random scenarios.”

“It’s not just memories,” Chloe picks up seamlessly, “it’s everything from pop culture, to encyclopedias, films and literature, music and archival footage. It’s memories from other androids who’ve interfaced with him, it’s conversations overheard from humans, it’s snippets of radio chatter- all of it.”

“So if I interface with him now I run the risk of being pulled in with him.” Simon sighs wearily, sitting heavily on the nearby seat. “I just don’t want him to face this alone, it sounds horrible.”

“I don’t think he’s alone, Simon.” She reassures him with a smile. “I think in some way you’re right there with him.”

 

* * *

 

 

[ **Preconstruct** **↓** ]

**> >ERROR**

 

“I’ll be gone for a few months,” says a young man beside him, addressing a collection of people at the bottom of the stairs. “In the meantime, you will answer to my son, Markus.”

“Yes Lord Manfred.” They answer in unison, bowing deeply. 

“Your wages will be paid on time, and you will remain under our full protection on these grounds of course.” The man continues, and there’s something so very familiar about the way his blue eyes twinkle when he smiles. “Please show my son the same respect you all warmly show me. I look forward to coming home in October in time for the Samhain feast.”

They bow once more before they scatter to their respective duties, and Markus blinks in confusion as the young man slings an arm around his shoulders. When he smiles, it’s then that Markus notices the very sharp gleaming canines in his mouth.

“Now Markus, don’t you worry about running the household.” They start to walk at a leisurely pace. “You’ll find that the household runs itself, and Miss Kara is an excellent housekeeper. She’ll introduce you to the staff. The only newcomers are the Lambert twins, Daniel and Simon. They’ll be our valets though I haven’t figured out which one I’ll pick yet.”

It’s Carl, Markus realises with startling clarity, the young man is Carl Manfred; he has the same mischievous devil-may-care grin, the same twinkling blue eyes, the same easy languid movements. Markus runs his tongue over his teeth and catches the tip against very sharp canines. When Carl sees the gesture he chuckles.

“They’ll keep our secret, Markus, it’s why I handpicked them.” He leads him into a beautiful office nestled inside a sizable library. “They’ll keep quiet in exchange for protection by living on our grounds. You can feed from them carefully if you like, though we have an arrangement with the hospital to supply us blood every evening.”

His mood turns somber, and he clasps him by the shoulders. “I know this is all new to you, my son, and I know I’m leaving you to your own devices so soon but Elijah entrusted you to me and I need to do this for him.”

Markus feels his breath hitch as he’s pulled into a tight embrace and he’s quick to hold onto Carl in return. “Just come back, dad.” 

“Dad.” Carl echoes with a smile when they pull away, cupping Markus’ cheek fondly. “I do like the sound of that. Two hundred years and three fledglings, and it’s the first time anyone’s called me dad.” He presses a kiss to Markus’ forehead and bids him farewell.

 

Markus meets the Lambert twins later that evening, the two identical blonds waiting on either side of his bedroom door. 

“Lord Manfred has yet to assign us as personal valets,” one of them explains, darting a glance up at him through respectfully lowered lashes. 

“We have both served him in that capacity,” says the other, chin square and gaze unwavering. “My name is Daniel.”

“My name is Simon.” Says the other, softly and politely. 

“Simon will serve me tonight.” Markus looks at the younger twin. “You will serve me tomorrow, Daniel.” 

“Yes my lord.” They bow respectfully, and Daniel strides away though not before shooting his brother a worried glance. 

Simon holds open the door, eyes averted as Markus enters the room. There’s a tall decanter of blood and a wineglass on the bedside table but Markus isn’t interested in it. He stands still, looking at Simon expectantly, and the young valet steps closer to begin to undress him.

From this close, Markus can hear his frantic heartbeat beneath his carefully disguised passive exterior and his skin is so lovely and pale he can see the light threading of his veins beneath the surface. He reaches for him, sliding an arm around his waist and pressing him flush against his body.

“My lord I-”

“Hush now, don’t speak out of turn.” Markus chides playfully, running a hand through his soft cornsilk yellow hair. He leans in, nose pressed to the curve of his neck and he breathes him in, the scent of clean linen and the salt of human skin. 

“My lord, we have dinner prepared, I-” Simon struggles feebly against him and Markus chuckles, opening his mouth wide and letting his fangs nestle just light enough to graze his porcelain skin. “Please, I-”

Markus bites down and Simon keens, a wounded cry escaping his lips as his knees give way. He tastes bittersweet, like an aged dry merlot and Markus wants to eat him whole.

“No, please-” Simon moans, clinging to Markus as he lays him down atop the bed. Markus straddles him, thumbing away a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. 

“You taste so lovely, Simon.” He leans down to lap at the puncture wounds weeping blood onto the sheets. “I’ll tell Daniel I’ve already chosen my valet.”

“Y-you would choose me, my lord?” Simon’s pupils are blown wide, his eyes glassy as he blinks up at him owlishly. 

“I would choose you in every lifetime.” Markus leans down to kiss him, and Simon boldly leans up to meet him halfway.

 

[ **Preconstruct** **↓** ]

**> >ERROR**

 

“Are even listening, Markus?” Carl sighs in irritation, and Markus blinks away the lazy midday fog in his thoughts.

“Yes father.”

“I know you are against this, but it’s the only path available for you.” Carl Manfred sits at his desk, fingers steepled and elbows resting on the lacquered mahogany. “As my adopted son you are not permitted to bear legitimised sons. Duke Benjamin Lambert’s sons are twins, and the younger twin Simon is in a similar position. Duke Lambert is amenable to the betrothal.”

“Now what?” Markus scoffs. “The two of you shake hands and arrange our futures, and then parade us around at a party like horses at the Ascot? I shan’t be gawked at, I’m a man not an animal at the zoo.” 

“Markus,” there’s a warning in Carl’s low tone. “I am trying to ensure you have a respectable future.”

“Let me meet him, father, and let it be done in private,” Markus pleads. “Let it be an informal meeting, something organic and unstructured, allow us that in the very least.”

“Alright.” Carl concedes with a tired nod. “I’ll allow it.”

 

He’s making a mess but he doesn’t care. Cerulean splashes onto the floor of the studio as Markus paints in grand arcs, sweeping his arm across the canvas in abandon. 

“Lord Markus?” A voice interrupts politely, and Markus turns towards the voice. A young man stands in the doorway, a box of paints in his arms.

“Set those down on that table, please.” Markus tips his head slightly to indicate the cluttered bench on the left. He turns back to his canvas and this time it’s a crisp cobalt chromite green he jabs his brush into before resuming the broad sweeping motions. 

It’s all a farce, this arranged marriage business. Why should their fathers decide who they should marry? Why should they be in charge of the destinies of their sons? Markus is eternally grateful for having been brought into the Manfred lineage but he’d been unaware of the cost back then. He didn’t know accepting the Manfred surname meant accepting the rule of Carl Manfred. 

He knows he’s being petty, he knows he’s being ungrateful. Carl didn’t have to adopt the starving artist painting the mural inside the town hall, he didn’t have to clothe him and feed him and invite him into his sprawling home. But he did it anyway, and he nurtured Markus’ artistic talent and gave him whatever supplies his heart desired. The manor’s walls were full of his art, and he’d even secured patronage for portraits of other nobles.

Markus all at once feels the fight drain from him, and he sets down his palette to rub at his eyes wearily. It’s then that he notices the young man who’d delivered the paints has yet to leave, and is presently curled up in the window box with a book.

“Can I help you?” Markus raises his voice to gain his attention.

“Oh no, please don’t mind me.” The young blond shakes his head sheepishly, and his eyes are a lovely robin’s egg blue. “Carry on, we have plenty of time. Your father won’t expect us until dinner.”

“Dinner?” Markus blinks, making a face at the bold way the delivery boy seems to talk to him. “I beg your pardon, but you are-?”

“Simon.” He answers with a soft smile. “Simon Lambert.”

 

[ **Preconstruct** **↓** ]

**> >ERROR**

 

“You’re the one who asked to watch episode 10.” An elbow digs into his ribs playfully. “And don’t you dare even  _ think _ of dozing off. It’s your turn to put David to bed.”

Markus rubs his eyes blearily and finds Simon curled at his side. They’re sitting on a worn comfy couch, with the television on low, and there’s a warm band of gold around his ring finger.

“Uh-”

“Toys away, brush teeth, wash face, pyjamas, bedtime story.” Simon lists dutifully, counting on his fingers. “Go on. It’s a school night.”

“Sure.” Markus nods, getting to his feet and wandering down the hallway. A child’s bedroom is located across from the bathroom, its occupant a young boy with mousy brown hair and a smattering of freckles on his sweet round face. The child is at his desk drawing something with crayons.

“David?” 

“Bedtime already?” The boy turns, huffing in disappointment. Markus finds himself smiling.

“It’s a school night, you know the rules.”

“Yes dad.” He sighs, dutifully packing up his crayons and picking up the various toys strewn on the floor. Markus knows him, he knows this boy. The YK500 at Jericho with the golden brown eyes, except this time there’s no LED at his temple, there’s no laboured breathing from an indented thirium pump regulator kicked into his chest. The boy is flesh and blood, warm and soft to hold as Markus discovers when he pulls him into his arms. He guides him through his evening routine, and sits beside him in bed as the boy snuggles against his side.

“Now, where were we?” Picking up the book on the bedside table, Markus flicks it open to the bookmark wedged between pages.

“No, make up a story for me dad.” David pleads, tugging on his shirt. “I want one just for me.”

“Alright.” Markus kisses the top of his head. “Once upon a time there was...a robot.”

“A robot?” The boy peeks up at him curiously.

“A robot that looked so much like a person you couldn’t tell he was a robot.” Markus continues with a smile. “This robot was made to look after an old man who was a very famous painter.”

“Is it grandpa Carl?” David giggles as Markus nods to confirm his guess.

“Carl didn’t want a robot at first, he was mad at him but he came to realise that they needed each other.” Markus pulls the boy closer, David resting his cheek on his chest. “The robot became like a son to him, Carl loved him so much. And the robot began to feel love towards Carl too, and came to realise it didn’t matter that they were so different. Carl was his father, and he was his son.”

“Are you a robot dad?” David asks, eyes wide. “Does daddy know?”

“Shh, it’s our big secret.” Markus tries to keep a straight face, barely managing to keep the smile off his lips as David collapses into giggles. 

“Are you boys behaving?” Simon stands in the doorway, arms crossed and expression bemused.

“Yes daddy!” David chirps, holding out his arms. “Kiss?”

“Kiss.” Simon nods, coming around to the bedside and leaning in to kiss the crown of his head. “Goodnight darling.”

“G’night daddy.” David smiles, wriggling down until he’s laying beneath the covers. “G’night dad.”

“Goodnight David.” Markus eases out of the bed, pressing a kiss to the boy’s brow. “Sweet dreams.”

“I won’t tell daddy about your secret.” David whispers after Simon leaves the room. 

“Thanks buddy.” Markus grins, tapping his nose fondly. 

 

When he makes his way back to the living room, Simon pats the empty spot beside him on the couch. 

“You ok?” He asks as Markus sinks down beside him and pulls him into his arms. “You’re spacing out tonight.”

“I’m just thinking that I’m the luckiest man in the world.” Markus shrugs, and Simon rolls his eyes.

“You sap.” He groans, shoving him playfully. Markus grins, shoving him with more force so he’s pinned lying on his back. Leaning down, he kisses him deeply, not relenting until Simon moans softly into his mouth.    
  


 

[ **Preconstruct** **↓** ]

**> >ERROR**

 

When Markus opens his eyes, he’s sitting on a worn comfy couch, with the television on low. There’s no gold band around his ring finger, and there’s no Simon beside him.

“Hey scoot over.” A bowl of popcorn is placed in his hands before Josh catches his lips in a warm mellow kiss. He plops down beside him and slings an arm around Markus’ shoulders before grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoving it in his mouth.

“I see you’ve started on the snacks already.” North drawls from behind them, flicking Josh’s temple before reaching between them to grab the bowl. She rounds the couch and leans in to kiss Markus, her lips tasting of chapstick and alcohol. Flopping down beside Josh, she pulls him in for a kiss too before beginning to pick at the popcorn one by one. “Si, come on!”

“Coming coming!” Simon carefully makes his way to them, balancing a tray with four tall glasses. He barely has time to set it on the coffee table before Markus yanks him onto his lap. The blond laughs brightly, squirming as Markus wraps his arms tightly around his waist.

“Noooo, I want kisses too!” Simon protests, trying to lean out of his grasp. “North help me!”

“Markus don’t hog our boyfriend all to yourself.” North jabs her foot against his leg. She sets down the bowl beside the drinks tray before sprawling over Josh’s lap in order to reach Simon. He receives three sweet kisses from them all before Josh complains they need to start the episode  _ now _ if they’ve any hope of managing a marathon before bed. They end up in a comfortable tangle of limbs barely into the next episode and Markus decides this is exactly where he wants to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Young chaotic vampire Carl looks like [Sergei Polunin](http://archadianskies.tumblr.com/tagged/sergei%20polunin)

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm still on this hellsite.](http://archadianskies.tumblr.com)


End file.
